February 24th- Happy Birthday my Harper girl

*** This is draft 2 of this post. I had it all typed up and then hit to publish it, and learned that I was signed into the wrong email address, not the one associated with this blog, and lost the whole thing.  It is a hard post to have to write twice, I took a Saturday and went to see Harper to rewrite it.  I am trying to go to the cemetery more now that it is warming up, and in a hope that it becomes a more normal thing in my life. I am going to put the picture I took on this post, but I want you to know that I look totally composed in the picture, but in reality it is a very emotional experience for me to sit with my daughter and write. So bear with me and any mistakes there might be in this post, because I did not proof read it.

This is the post that I find the hardest to write. This is the post where we met Harper, officially.  This is also the post where we said goodbye to Harper. Or in our belief, we said "see you soon" to Harper.

This post will be long. I am going to try to include as many details as I can, for my memories sake mostly, but also to share my story. I am going to put some pictures in this post of Harper, and more than just her darling tiny feet (which is what I typically share).  If that makes you uncomfortable, this is your warning. :)



Friday February 22nd, started as a pretty typical day.  In fact I don't remember much about the day before our appointment.  I do remember that I left school early for our appointment at the specialist.  I remember being super anxious and already crying before I even arrived.  I was so distracted that I drove myself up to the hospital in Murray not remember or understanding that my husband was picking me up at our house for this appointment.  He drove from his job in Murray to our house 30+ mins away, while I drove from Provo to Murray, and then he had to drive himself back up to Murray.

Lets just say it was a rocky start.  I had all these fears- as my last post explains why- there was so much pressure on this appointment.  She had to grow- there was no other option. I think deep down I knew she hadn't grown because I hadn't grown.  I don't know what a 25 week baby bump looks like, but I knew mine hadn't changed much or at least not enough.  I was anxious and already in tears walking into the hospital.

It started out pretty normal. Check in, wait, called back, weight and blood pressure check, and on the table for the ultrasound.  This is where the change happened.  The ultrasound tech started taking measurements, head, belly, legs... it wasn't more than 10min because she looked a little puzzled and turned-on the heartbeat monitor.  I knew right away, before she even said it.  There was no heartbeat.

What happened from there is a blur.  The tech gave her condolences for our loss and said she would give us a minute.  I sobbed in my husbands arms. I should say we sobbed in each others arms. For how long? I don't know, but at some point the doctor came in (another new one we'd never met, male this time).  Gave his condolences, told us that he would call our doctor and they would call us about what to do next. Told us we could stay as long as we needed to, and left us again.

I, again, was unimpressed. I didn't know what was going to happen, wasn't I going to be admitted and go to the hospital?  I was just supposed to go home and wait?! We didn't stay much longer, if I was going to ugly cry I wasn't going to stay there.  We left with no one else saying anything to us.  When I got to the car I looked at my phone and I had a voicemail from the specialist doctor telling me that I needed to call my primary OB's office for further instruction.  I was literally just in the office of this guy and rather than coming back in to talk to me he called and left me a message.  I get it, its a hard thing to handle, people act in different ways. I will forgive him for that. Remember at this point, Mike and I each had a car, but we went home in just mine. I was a mess, and Mike was strong (for me, no doubt).  He drove home while I cried. He called his job and let them know what had happened and that he wouldn't be returning for a while... and I cried.  He called my mom and told her.. and we all cried. He called my dad and told him.. and I cried.  He called my boss and told him.. and I kept crying.  You get the pattern, this went on through phone calls to his family, and eventually he called the doctor, because there was no way I could.. I was broken.

The doctor told us that Labor and Delivery was very busy at the hospital and we would have to wait for a room to become available.  She said it could be into the evening before we would be able to come it, and to wait for her phone call.  And so we waited.  Mike and I sat in our living room where we took it all in.  What now? We had no idea what is done when this happens.  The scary doctor at an earlier specialist appointment said that a vaginal delivery wasn't an option for such small babies and there could be a chance a c-section would be necessary.  We had a lot of unknown and sometimes the waiting game only makes things feel worse.

At around 7pm we received a call to let us know that they would be calling us in relatively soon and to get ready.  We asked if we would need an overnight bag and she said to bring one just in case. At around 8 we got the call to be there in 20 mins.  So we gathered our things and headed to the hospital.  The hospital is very close to our house so it didn't take us very long to get there, get up to labor and delivery, and checked in at the front desk.  We went back to our room and was greeted by our nurse, Jessica, she gave me a gown and asked me to change.

I am going to pause for a minute here and give huge love and props to the nurses that took care of us. I imagine going into a room with a stranger who had lost her baby would be a difficult mother to take on.  I know it is their job, but I was so appreciative of the love that they gave to me during this really difficult time in my life.  I didn't know what was going to happen, I didn't know what labor would be like, and I felt so much love from each and every one of them. They'd comfort me, hug me, joke with me, bring me diet coke when I asked, and will always be in my memory for sharing this moment with me.

After I changed and got situated our Bishop and Relief Society President had arrived.  They came in and shared their condolences with Mike and I.  My Bishop sharing the story of how he and his wife has lost their first baby and his assurance that she is forever ours. He stood with Mike as he gave me a blessing of peace and comfort, of healing and grace, and I bawled through the whole thing.  They left as my family was beginning to arrive. My mother, sister, two brothers,  my sister in law, and Mike's mom all came to the hospital.  We had friends visit as well, and it was so nice to have everyone there for me and Harper.

Around 10pm after getting my IV in and getting situated I started on a drug called Cytotec.  In a typical induction they use a drug called Pitocin to induce labor and start contractions, but given my situation the Pitocin wasn't necessary and my understanding could have caused more problems than help.  Harper was very small, and in a fragile position. We didn't want to or need to go into full labor for me to deliver her.  The drug Cytotec is in pill form and works slower to start the process.  My sister works at this same hospital in the Nursery and NICU and when she heard what I was taking even said it would be a long process.  The Cytotec is given every 3 hours.  The first few doses were put inside me near my cervix and all other doses were dissolved in my cheek (it wasn't very tasty and I wasn't allowed to swallow them so I just had to hold them in my cheek until they dissolved).  Our family left around midnight as I was told to get some rest while I could and there was very little action ahead of us.

My doctor wasn't on call, but his partner Dr. Thomas was. I had never met him until this moment and at first I was very frustrated to not have my doctor, but immediately I was impressed with Dr. Thomas. He was very calm and caring.  I immediately felt comfortable with him. I later learned from my sister that he and his wife had experienced a loss of one of their babies, and for sure I felt his empathy with Mike and I in this situation.  I was grateful for him to be there and there is something about sharing this experience with him that makes me want to have him as my OB in future pregnancies.

So after my family left, Mike and I tried to get some sleep. The nurse came in every hour to check my blood pressure, high blood pressure was a side effect of the medicine, and every 3 hours for another dose of Cytotec.  I was told that I would start feeling cramping, similar to how period cramps feel, but progressively get stronger. When the pain felt too strong, I could get an epidural.  I felt pretty good and tried to get some sleep even with all the interruptions. At around 4am, during one of my blood pressure checks, I was starting to feel cramping.  I tried to go back to sleep and found my self tossing and turning (as much as I could hooked up to the IV) trying to find a comfortable position when I realized... I was in pain... and I didn't have to be. I called for the nurse and let her know that I was ready for my epidural.  When the anesthesiologist came in and I got that sucker in my back, it was magical! I literally felt warmth run down my legs as the medicine was put in my back, and fell asleep quicker than I was able to earlier.  My incredible husband would wake up with me, and he said that he would wait until he could hear me snoring (Id say breathing heavily) before he would let himself fall asleep because he wanted to make sure I was able to rest.  Aw.. love him.  At 6am, Jessica came in and said that she was going off shift and introduced me to Karissa the nurse that would be taking care of me.  Karissa was another angel, I'm convinced they all are.

We went on into morning, every hour blood pressure check, every 3 hours a cytotec dose.  I was on a liquid diet only, so I was living off of italian ices and chicken broth from the cafeteria.  I tried to sleep, but it wasn't happening I had too much on my mind. We had our family come back, and friends visit again. Dose after dose, and when I would be examined I was only dilating to a 1 or 2.  It was a slow process for sure.  While the day was pretty uneventful in the labor department, it was full of decision making for Mike and I. We had fetal death paperwork we had to fill out, we had to decide on what we were doing with her body, where would we bury her, what mortuary would we use.  A LOT of things you don't think you have to do before you have even met your baby.

When first starting this process the doctor had explained to me that the idea delivery would be that baby girl and the placenta would all be delivered still her in amniotic sac, essentially my water would never break.  This would protect her the most as well as guarantee that I delivered my placenta.  Apparently in these early deliveries the placenta doesn't always deliver causing the mother to have to go into surgery to remove it.  So our hope was for it to all come out together.  As our day went on and my labor kept moving slowly, our plan changed.  In the afternoon on Saturday the 23rd, the doctor came in and did another exam again reporting around 2 cm dilation, and let me know that if we reached the 24 hour mark without much change, he would break my water.  At 6pm, there was another nurse shift change and Jessica was back, and was again assigned to me.  When she had left the night before she told me she was on shift again and would come say hi if I was still here, she did more than say hi.

The afternoon turned to evening and evening turned to night.  10pm rolled around which is the 24 hours mark, and I was pretty set on a 2 still.  So Dr. Thomas broke my water.  I was pretty numb from the epidural, but I definitely felt the gush as he broke my water, and even more the realization that this was coming soon.  I was exhausted, I didn't sleep much the past 24 hours, and while I was trying to prepare myself to meet my baby in the state the she was in, I would never be prepared. After my water was broken I was again given the advice to sleep. I would need it.  My family stuck around again that night until late, and they left me with the advice to get some sleep as well. So we tried. My poor husband was exhausted and we looked it.  In fact, you will see when I post pictures of the night how tired and puffy eyed we were, not our greatest moments, but our Harper moments nonetheless.

Around midnight, Jessica came in to let me know that she was getting called off, hugged me, cried with me, and introduced me to new nurse Sierra who would be taking care of me. Sierra, while only with me for a short time, was my nurse for Harper's delivery and another angel. At 1:00am she came in to give me another dose of Cytotec.  Asked me if I had felt any pressure or anything and I let her know that I hadn't.  She left for me to rest, and no more than 30 mins later, I started to feel what I would call contractions. As much as I was numb, the urge to push and the pressure on my uterus was strong.  I woke Mike up and was describing what I was feeling when my epidural machine's beeping went off,  letting us know it needed more juice.  I called for the nurse to come switch it, and when she came let her know what I was feeling.  She filled the machine, and came to do an exam on me, to which she quickly said, 'Im going to get the doctor."

Dr. Thomas came in and did an exam. He looked up at me and let me know that she was coming.  I don't know what I was expecting this scene to be like but it was different than I thought it would be.  There we 2 nurses and the doctor only.  It was quiet, there was only one light (spotlight on me) on so somewhat dark in the room.  I was told to push in a whisper by the doctor. I wasn't in stirrups or anything like you would think. Just in my bed, where I delivered my little girl.  At 1:47 Harper was born weighing 12 ounces and was 10 inches long.  She had stuffed a hematoma on her head in birth, and was the most fragile thing I have ever seen.  The doctor examined her briefly before assuring me he didn't see anything out of ordinary with her that he thought might have caused her passing.  He placed her on a medical pad on a pretty pink blanket and the nurses passed her to me. I placed a pillow on my lap and took my baby girl.  I cry now as I write this, but I didn't cry then.  It was calm and peaceful. I might have been distracted by the fact that I was still pushing the placenta out, which came out fully with no problems, and still just taking in the whole reality of the event.  The doctor examined me to make sure I hadn't had any problems and let me know that I looked good, with no tearing or anything like that.  He showed me my placenta and pointed out a hard spot, or crystallization, that was on it that was abnormal, but had many reasons why it could have happened. Earlier in the day we had decided to send Harper to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake for an autopsy and he suggested we send the placenta too.  Whatever we could learn from her or her placenta to help explain this, or give us direction for her future brothers and sisters, we wanted to know.  But in this moment, the nurses and doctor had left, it was just Mike and I with our baby, and we were heartbroken.

We let our families know she had arrived and asked them to give us some time as a family.  They were coming to the hospital at 3am.  In the meantime we got to be with her.  The hospital has a service for stillborns that they had told me about earlier, but without experiencing it I didn't really know what they were talking about.  I still have no idea if her service is just a volunteer thing, or if she is hired by the hospital, but Heather came in probably around 2:45am.  Her service was that she would take Harper to the sink and counter in the room and she would clean her, and clothe her.  She got her footprints and handprints for us, and made molds of her hands and feet.  She took pictures of her for us, and pictures of everyone after she was ready.  I just received these pictures the other day from her, and I am honestly so grateful for them.  They are my memories of the moments we had with her, though tearful, they are all I have of her.  She also gave me a cute purple girly box that kept all the things she had made in it, a second dress of the one she had put on her, and other clothing and things.  She pulled out two tiny pink dresses and let me know that I could choose one of those to have her buried in.  It was all very emotional and overwhelming to me, but in hindsight it means the world to me to have someone care for me and Harper in this way.  Here are some of the pictures of Harper she took and my sister and brother took. 

I mean her feet were just tiny and adorable and they very much got their own photoshoot!

The next pictures were taken by her and some from my sister during the time that my family and friends were able to meet her.  These are very special to me and the only moments I get to have with her on this Earth life. I say this all the time, but I wish everyone would have got the chance to meet her.  These moments are all I get of her with her Aunts, Uncles, and Grandmas.  

These last ones are of our family. Mike and I with our daughter.  They are the memory of our moments. 

 Our family came at 3am and stayed with us almost until the sun came up. At 6am, there was another nurse shift, and Karissa was back with us.  She arrived just in time to help my wobbly post epidural, bleeding out of control body to the bathroom for the first time, but was able to hold Harper. When the family had left we really should have gotten some sleep.  Mike was much more successful than I was. I tried.  Karissa even brought in a bed for Harper that had a cooling pad in it that kept her little body cold while I rested. I slept for about an hour and a half, I couldn't sleep knowing these were the only minutes and hours I got to have with her.  I held her and smelled her- whatever they washed her or sprayed her blankets with is engrained in my memory. My mom even said she could smell it on her clothes when she had gone home that morning. Whatever it was- it was lovely.  I let Mike sleep a little while more, and the nurse told me that I needed to eat something- food was the last thing I was concerned with, but it had been close to 36 hours since I had eaten anything substantial. I ordered some breakfast, but barely touched it.  All I wanted was her. When the room service/cafeteria lady brought up my breakfast. She hugged me and cried with me. I had never met her, but I appreciated her comfort and care. 

Once my epidural had fully worn off, and I was somewhat back to normal, Karissa let us know that we were in no rush, but technically we could leave whenever we wanted to.  Would it even be enough time with our baby girl, no, never.  We stayed into the afternoon, still resting, still waiting for my postpartum body to be ready to go, but mostly taking in every moment with her. To say I was a mess it an understatement.  Mike was strong... I think mostly for me. We definitely both broke down many times, but I could not let her go.  Around 3pm, we let the nurse know that she could call the mortuary to come and pick her up.  The mortuary picks her up and takes her to Primary Children's Hospital for her autopsy, when she is done, they call our mortuary who then go up to SLC and pick her up.  It is all a very kind and gentle process.  She said they would be around an hour.  We had called my mom to come over and help us leave. We had a lot of flowers and things left from our visitors and Mike wanted some help to get everything out.  This also gave my mom some more moments with Harper. 

I can't quite describe the moment when they came to get her.  Karissa came in and let us know they had arrived or would be arriving soon, either way, basically letting us know it was our final moments.  My mom left the room and gave us some time together to say our goodbyes.  I remember multiple times telling Mike that I wasn't ready.  That I couldn't do it. That I couldn't say goodbye.  I couldn't let them take her.

We sobbed and held her close.  We gave her kisses. We prayed and cried some more.  We told her we loved her and we would see her soon.  The man from the mortuary came in and laid out a blanked on my bed. He let me know that he would be covering her in the blanket and would take good care of her.  I gave her to him, and like a bandaid, he left quickly.  I will forever feel like a part of me left with her and I am forever changed. 

We didn't stay much longer, there really wasn't a point.  We gathered all our things and I changed out of my gown.  Karissa helped us out, and gave me a big hug.  And we left.  We went home without our Harper girl.